


I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream

by Delayedresponse



Series: The Non-Believers [2]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Paranormal, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 14:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12082626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delayedresponse/pseuds/Delayedresponse
Summary: Ryan reads unsourced articles on WebMD and thinks they are written by medical professionals. Meanwhile, Shane has a crisis.





	I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream

**Author's Note:**

> I've been absolutely blown away by the reception on the last installment. Thank you all so much! Here's part two, where the plot is kicking up ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Ryan couldn’t sleep.

He had tried everything. From hot baths to calming music to working out until his muscles screamed for rest. He even broke his ‘no drugs’ rule and tried taking sleeping pills. It didn’t work. None of them did.

He groaned and reached to the bedside table for his phone. Nearly blinded by the sudden light, Ryan struggled to read the time on the screen. 

3:45am? He had work tomorrow, for fuck’s sake. Articles to research, meetings to attend and a shit-ton of footage to edit. He almost considered calling in sick, which was something he rarely did. Ryan loved his job - at least he did before stepping into the office everyday became a constant reminder of the things he has lost.

Fuck it, maybe he’ll try the calming music again.

* * *

Shane couldn’t sleep.

It was not that he had trouble sleeping, he literally can’t sleep. Another stupid side-effect of his already absurd existence. A pity, since Shane’s two favourite past-times were a) having popcorn eating contests with Ryan and b) sleeping.

Speaking of Ryan, the other man had started listening to his 23rd replay of Midnight Sonata. Shane found himself wishing he was corporeal enough to chuck Ryan’s phone across the room. 

“You know that’s not going to work, right?”

Ryan continued staring at the ceiling with a vacant expression, giving no indication that he heard Shane. 

“Ryan Bergara, for the love of god, please _stop_.”

There was no response. Shane grabbed at the phone, ghostly fingers futilely passing through it. He growled in frustration. What kind of useless ghost was he? The poltergeist at the penitentiary seemed to have no problem making its presence known and throwing things around. So why couldn’t he do the same?

Shane scowled at his hands - white bone encased in translucent, spectral flesh. Spirits don’t show up in mirrors, so he could only guess what the rest of him looked like. He hoped that if he ever were to materialise and become a full-bodied apparition, Ryan would still recognize him.

Fifteen minutes later, Ryan had fallen into a deep, albeit uneasy sleep. The music continued to play in the background, the soft tune in sync with his breathing. 

Shane waved his hand over the phone, trying to get the music to stop. From what little time he had spent as a ghost, he discovered that his presence could affect electronics. The music app closed but the camera one opened instead, illuminating the room and causing Ryan to stir. 

Startled, Shane swiped at the phone. It finally shut off and the room plunged back into darkness. Yikes, he was _not_ doing that again.

Once over his initial panic, he stretched his legs and laid down next to Ryan. Shane could feel the heat radiating from his friend, a stark contrast to his cold, dead self. He reached out, pretending to brush a few strands of stray hair from Ryan’s eyes. 

For now, all he can do is pretend.

* * *

Ryan stumbled into the office the next day, bleary-eyed and fatigued. As he leaned over the coffee machine, one of the interns suggested he try aromatherapy to help him sleep. Ryan smiled weakly and thanked the intern. He didn’t have the heart to say that he had already tried it and all it did was help him discover he was allergic to lavender. 

He returned to his desk, only to find Brent sitting there, spinning around in the chair like some cartoon villain. Ryan had to resist the urge to drench him in scalding coffee.

“What do you want?”

Brent rolled his eyes. “To check on you, of course. You look like utter crap. What the hell happened?”

Ryan took a swig of his coffee and burned his tongue. Ugh, still hot. “I… couldn’t sleep.”

“Again? It’s been _months_ , man.” Brent pursed his lips, thinking. “You need help, like serious medical help. Or you’re gonna drive yourself to an early grave.”

Ryan didn’t answer. He stared at his coffee mug, the black liquid inside sloshing about. An early grave actually didn’t sound too bad right now.

“Dude, are you even listening?”

Ryan forced himself to look up and meet Brent’s eyes. “Yeah, I heard you...I was just thinking of something.”

Brent sighed, tone borderlining on exasperation. He was probably considering hiring a professional anesthesiologist to sedate Ryan. Or deciding if a good, solid punch to the face would knock him out. Ryan wasn’t sure which one he preferred. 

“Just...promise me you’ll get help, okay?”

“Fine,” huffed Ryan and as an afterthought, added, “Jackass.”

Brent grinned, “fuck you too, asshole.” 

Ryan settled down in the chair, which was now uncomfortably warm thanks to Brent. He sipped his coffee, disappointed to find it severely bitter. Maybe he’ll offer it to Shane. The guy had no standards. Ryan spun around, only to be greeted by an empty desk.

Oh, right.

He felt his eyes sting. Gripping the desk hard enough to leave gouges, Ryan willed himself not to cry. Fuck, he couldn’t continue like this. Everyone else had already moved on and here he was, bursting into tears every time he thought of Shane. 

_Move on, it’s been six months. You need to move on._

Ryan took a deep breath and steadied himself, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

* * *

Shane was no stranger to seeing Ryan cry. However, this was different - he couldn’t even touch Ryan, let alone reassure his best friend. Frustrated, Shane did what anyone else in this situation would have done. 

He screamed. 

Immediately, alarms rang out across the office. Every single employee in the room fell to ground, covering their ears in pain. Laptops crashed and the lights overhead flickered briefly, before shattering in a shower of glass.

Shane watched in shock as the world around him dissolved into chaos. Whimpers of agony and the sound of glitching machines could be heard. One intern had curled herself into a fetal position, blood trickling from her left ear. The only seemingly unaffected person was Ryan, who was trembling at the scene with wide, terrified eyes.

 _No, no, no._ From the corner of his eye, Shane saw Sara Rubin stagger out of her chair and collapse to the floor. _Did I do this?_

What on earth was happening?

Meanwhile, people from other rooms started to catch on and rushed in to help. Ryan, despite looking more confused than hurt, allowed himself to be led out by two other employees. His attachment tugged painfully, pulling him to follow suit. Shane had no choice but to leave.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely as a crowd began gathering around the bleeding intern. There was the distant wail of an ambulance arriving. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

* * *

It was a probably blackout, they said, caused by an localised electrical fault. Ryan did not believe this for one second. Not as he was being checked for injuries by paramedics. Not as he sat on a lawn bench outside the building, squished between Brent and Sara. 

Everyone involved in the incident were looking worse for the wear. Brent’s glasses were askew and his hair was a mess. Sara had a huge bruise on her arm after falling off a chair. Various employees had become victims of nosebleeds, ringing in their ears and headaches. Ryan pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. It all seemed too bizarre to be real.

“Three hours! Three hours of unsaved footage!” Brent lamented, putting his head in his hands. “It’s almost as if the universe hates me.”

Sara reached across to pat Brent’s shoulder in a sign of solidarity. Apparently this was of no help to Brent, who made an even louder noise of dismay, akin to a plane taking off. Ryan ignored him - typical, overdramatic Brent, making everything about himself. 

Sara must have noticed him sulking. “Ryan, are you alright?”

Ryan shrugged, looking away. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? No injuries anywhere?”

“I’m fine, really,” he insisted, but Sara remained unconvinced.

‘There’s definitely something wrong,” she said, rubbing her bruised arm. “We’ve been friends for a long time now. You can be honest with me.” 

“I’m honest, I swear! I’ve just been thinking about stuff lately and - 

“There you go again with that bullshit,” snapped Brent suddenly. “When are you gonna cut it out? She’s trying to help you, for fuck’s sake!” 

Ryan was taken aback. “What?”

“You’re obviously not fine! You come to work half-dead, you fall asleep during meetings, you barely talk anymore. You’ve changed, dude. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Enough!” hissed Sara, but the damage was already done. Ryan felt his chest tighten with the urge to cry. _No, not again._

“Ryan, hey there,” she said, gently. Hearing her voice only made his chest seize up more. “I get it. I understand. It’s because of Shane, right?” 

He nodded, biting his lip. _Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry._

“I know you two were good friends and…” 

“I- It’s not just that,” Ryan gasped. No use hiding it anymore. “I- I loved him. I was in love with him.” 

Dawning realisation crossed both his friends’ faces. “Oh, no,” whispered Sara, “oh, Ryan.”

She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. It was like the weight of the world had crashed upon him. He started to sob uncontrollably. Sara rubbed his back, making soothing noises. 

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice.”

“S’n- not your fault,” sniffed Ryan. 

“Still, I’m sorry you had to suffer alone.”

She reached out to hold his hand, a thin smile on her lips. Next to him, Brent grasped his other hand in an uncharacteristic moment of empathy. This almost made Ryan weep with renewed vigor.

The three of them sat there in that position until Ryan’s sobs subsided. By then, the ambulance had left and the remaining workers had been dismissed. A flock of birds flew lazily past them, probably returning to their nests for the night.

“Hey,” said Brent, “you know what we should do?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“Bonnie and Clyde’s. Drinks are on me.”

“Sounds fantastic,” replied Sara. Ryan leaned against her shoulder sleepily, looking up at the birds. He closed his eyes, pretending that it was Shane’s shoulder he was leaning on.

Sometimes, all he can do is pretend.

* * *

The pub known to regulars affectionately as ‘The Bonnie and Clyde’ had always held a special place in Shane’s heart. It was here, after all, where he first fell in love with Ryan Bergara. 

He remembers chugging his third beer that night, head hazy and body on fire. He remembers gazing at Ryan, bathed in a warm, golden glow, thinking _This is him. This is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with._

Ryan, Sara and Brent were currently seated at the pub’s old wooden bar, attempting to forget the morning fiasco by downing alcohol. Soon, the pub started to fill with their fellow colleagues, all needing a pint or two after dealing with the stress caused by Shane’s fallout.

In other circumstances, he would have found it funny - hilarious even - if it wasn’t entirely his fault. At the base of his throat was some sort of energy build-up, waiting to be released. Swallowing gingerly, Shane knew he had to control it. There could not be a repeat of this morning’s incident. 

He hovered behind the bar silently. Also, did Ryan really just confess his love for him? God, this whole day had been a fucking trip. A huge, fucking, LSD-induced trip. He never thought, in a thousand years, that Ryan actually loved him back.

Shane rubbed his eyes and allowed himself a little smile. Well, at least in the end, something good came out of it.

* * *

Being in isolation had made him forget how great it was to be surrounded by friends. Ryan felt lighter than he had in months. They joked, drank and teased him endlessly about his crush on Shane. An improvement, especially since the last time they met up outside of work was to lower said crush’s body six feet into the ground. 

Ryan filled his lungs with the crisp night air. Maybe - just maybe - he was on the road to recovery. Smiling softly, he pulled out his phone to check the time.

**You have (1) unsaved image. Open gallery to view?**

Damn it, Brent must have somehow gotten to his phone again. Ryan swiped to open his gallery, fully prepared to see a close-up shot of his friend's nostril. What he saw instead, nearly made his heart stop. 

The image was dated 4:21am and showed his bedroom ceiling, barely visible in the dark. Right smack in the centre of the photograph, clear as day, was a single skeletal hand.

* * *

“Buzzfeed Blue presents: The Haunted Artifact Challenge. Today, randomly chosen employees will be spending the night with one of five supposedly ‘haunted’ objects. Now, let’s go meet our participants.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Come find me on Tumblr!](http://delayedresponse.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> Bonus points if you can guess what kind of ghost Shane is.


End file.
